


In your Shadow

by LeoDios



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Drama, FC Barcelona, Jealousy, M/M, Neymessi, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-03-27 10:49:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13879296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeoDios/pseuds/LeoDios
Summary: Who knew one could miss a man's silences so much?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi lovelies, it has been a long time since I have written anything on here. I've been thinking about a neymessi fic (I know, I know it doesn't exist anymore but in my mind it still sort of does, just about). You can see this as a kind of (very short) "teaser" for that, and please let me know if you want more of this!

I know I can't call you anymore

 

I know you're not listening

even though you won't give me the satisfaction

of cutting me out altogether

 

You'll always be there,

smiling at me like a benevolent elder

you'll never storm out, slam that door

You leave all childish things to me

 

Still, you have a way of showing me that

I can't call you anymore,

It's in the way you embraced me

but didn't melt into my arms

the last time I saw you

 

in Barcelona.

 

Barcelona,

again I know I can't

I shouldn't

 

That city is yours,

Perhaps you are angry with me, thinking

that one day it could have been mine.

But in this you're wrong.

This could never be mine,

because it is yours eternally.

 

And so I went to Paris, searching for something

realising, but not realising,

that  _you're_ not in Paris,

 

not your eyes,

not your smile,

not your voice and, especially,

not your silence.

 

Who knew one could miss a man's silences so much?

Now there can be no such beats between us, meaningful

or not,

cool or hot,

Every time we meet, we have to talk,

we have to catch up,

we  _have to_  find the words, 

because we don't have the time to be quiet together.

 

But sometimes all words are lies,

and the only truth is in silence,

and now this part of  _us_

is silenced forever.

 

***

 

Neymar can hardly believe it. His therapist can get him to try a lot of things, but to write something about his feelings? His  _deepest anxieties_ , to use the therapist's exact words. His damned feelings have been getting in the way of too many things. He feels in a particularly brooding mood, out for the season for his club, he can't bring himself to think of the biggest tournament of all, one that he was (and still is, despite everything) determined to make his own - Russia 2018. The World Cup. Everyone around him has been reassuring him that he will be fine, ready, extra motivated. He's been getting the feeling that everyone keeps lying to him all the time. Or at least that they don't tell him the whole truth.

 

It wasn't like this in Barcelona, of course. He had his entourage, but not everyone was his entourage. He feels untethered in Paris, even though he'll never admit it. 

 

The therapist wants him to find someone to confide in. Everyone knows Neymar has friends, he is surrounded by friends all the time. But who can he tell the truth to? Not his sister, she is too young and loves him too much to see the darkness in him. Not Dani. Neymar loves Dani, but has come to see that Dani has his own agenda, his own darkness. Who then? Eventually he settles on Luis, but not without reservations.

 

He sends what he's written to Luis. Resists the urge to couch it in terms of a joke. Just sends it to him, titled -  _Here's what I've been feeling._

He doesn't expect Luis to be the perfect recipient, but he didn't expect him to be borderline contemptuous either. It hurts. Luis is so loyal to Leo, so absolutely on his side that Neymar is stunned. 

 

"You better not send this to him," is Luis' response.

 

Luis is supposed to be his friend, too. They were  _the trident._ It was all three of them. But now it's Leo and Luis and friendship and love, and brotherly, neighbourly, whatever. And where does that leave him?

 

"I wasn't going to send it to  _him."_

_"_ Okay, but really don't."

 

"Anyway, why not? Does he care?"

 

"You don't want to hurt him more, do you?"

 

That stung. If he wanted the truth, he just needed to go to Luis. And, as it turns out he, Neymar, can't quite handle it. Not like this.

 

*


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Real Madrid."
> 
> "Real Madrid."
> 
> "Real Madrid."
> 
> "Barcelona."
> 
> Neymar's father stood up and came over to where his son was standing, arms wrapped tensely around his body. He put his arms around Neymar and shook him a little, as if to say "lighten up!"
> 
> It was an enormous decision, one he was lucky to even be contemplating but still. 
> 
> "We do what you want. We go where you want," the father said, reassuringly, "come on, don't be so stressed out."
> 
> "So why did you all choose Madrid?" he asked, somewhat accusingly, staring at his mother and sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies, first of all thank you for your response to my previous chapter. I am so happy that people still want to read Neymessi! I spent a lot of time thinking about this fic, and realised there is SO MUCH material. For a while I hardly knew where to go with it, but I decided to do a short chapter and post it quickly rather than think about everything too much. So here it is, and I hope you like it, and hope you will let me know in the comments what you thought of it.
> 
> Neymar is injured and recovering in Brazil. He has time on his hands so he is thinking about a lot of things - including his life in Barcelona, when he first arrived there, meeting Leo for the first time, etc. He also watches his new team get eliminated from the Champions League and has various thoughts and feelings. I have to say, it is all rather angsty and that's how this fic is most likely going to be!

"Real Madrid."

 

"Real Madrid."

 

"Real Madrid."

 

"Barcelona."

 

Neymar's father stood up and came over to where his son was standing, arms wrapped tensely around his body. He put his arms around Neymar and shook him a little, as if to say "lighten up!"

 

It was an enormous decision, one he was lucky to even be contemplating but still. 

 

"We do what  _you_ want. We go where  _you_ want," the father said, reassuringly, "come on, don't be so stressed out."

 

"So why did you all choose Madrid?" he asked, somewhat accusingly, staring at his mother and sister.

 

His sister Rafaella rolled her eyes and went back to looking at her phone. That's all she did lately, her opinion didn't really count.

 

"Don't listen to them," his father said waving his hand dismissively.

 

"What about you, huh? You said Madrid too?"

 

His father sighed.

 

"Well I could be guilty of thinking too far ahead. I am your father. I see things logically. But we have to also listen to your emotions. Otherwise, what is the point?"

 

"But I want to know what you're thinking of."

 

Neymar was extremely close to his father. To all his family members really, but when it came to football he always listened to his father. He always called him before he went out onto the pitch for any match. It was part of his pre-match ritual.

 

"I'm thinking, in Barca there is Messi. In Madrid there is Cristiano, but he is older. You can play anywhere son, but when I see you play I feel like you would fit better at Madrid."

 

He paused and frowned, and then ruffled Neymar's hair, finally smiling.

 

"Like I said, I am thinking too much. If your heart says Barca, it will be Barca. And you will be magnificent."

 

Neymar shrugged his father off and walked away.

 

_In Barca there is Messi._

That was the problem, wasn't it? He couldn't say no to that, could he? His father was pragmatic. He couldn't replace Messi...yet. But how could he say no to playing with Messi? How could he pass up that opportunity?

 

It had to be Barcelona.

 

*

 

It was surreal when he got to meet Leo, with all the others in the dressing room. He was so normal. He didn't expect him to be superhuman or anything, but in Neymar's mind he was the stuff of legend. And yet here he was, quietly doing his thing in in the corner. 

 

That first day of training, he'd turned his head and given him a shy smile and every time Neymar thought of him, of the beginning, he thought he must have fallen in love right then. 

 

He was only 21. Love seemed...theoretical. He was on and off with Bruna even then, just like now. Messi had been with Antonela forever, they had had a baby the previous winter. Messi knew what love was, probably. To Neymar, love was a mystery.

 

"Come have dinner with us," Leo said one day after training. He looked shy and uncertain, as if afraid of being rejected. Neymar was sweaty and dirty, suddenly self-conscious of his naked torso. Leo was already showered and dressed, his hair fluffy and adorable. He leaned on the locker, his eyelids heavy - like he was ready for a long nap - mouth upturned a little. Neymar could hear his heart beat against his chest. What was happening to him?

 

Was he really falling for his teammate? So quick, so hard? Lionel Messi, of all people?

 

"Um...yeah?" he barely choked out.

 

Leo bit his bottom lip and smiled.

 

"Okay! Let me ask Anto when and I'll let you know."

 

Neymar's heart sank. How was he going to deal? With Leo Messi and his little perfect family?

 

In the end the dinner never happened. They picked a date, but Thiago was ill so they had to cancel. And then it was weeks past and Neymar had integrated, hanging out with everyone in an organic way - no awkward, obligatory dinner necessary. Neymar was happy with that, relieved, but he never forgot that Leo had asked him, had made the effort. It meant a lot.

 

*

 

He threw the remote away. He almost stopped watching when Marco got a red card, but he carried on until the end, as if to torture himself. He'd watched this alone, even though all his friends and family were also watching. It was too stressful. As far as he was concerned, if he was going to be honest about it, this was a lose-lose situation for him. Either his team would - most likely - get eliminated from the tournament at this humiliatingly early stage or - and this thought made his heart go cold - his team would mount an incredible comeback,  _without him._

What would the papers say? PSG down Madrid  _without Neymar._

He felt like an asshole for thinking like this, of course he did. But then he  _was_ an asshole. As big of an asshole as they all thought he was. He went out on to the balcony and did something he hadn't done in a long, long time - he smoked a cigarette. He didn't give a crap anymore. 

 

Of course he gave a crap. But just for a minute he didn't. And it was a relief. He would go to sleep and wake up and he would be back. Back to being Neymar, global superstar, more brand than man. He would go back to caring about all of it. After all, he didn't really know who he was outside of Neymar the brand. Not really, not anymore.

 

He took deep drag of the cigarette and started thinking about Leo - since he was already doing one thing that was bad for him, what was the harm in another small indulgence?

 

How did Messi feel? How did everyone feel? Were they happy that PSG had been eliminated? Of course everyone hated Madrid most of all. But were they a little happy? He could imagine it. 

 

It was torture to think about Messi's thoughts. Mostly because it was impossible to really know. He changed focus and just thought about his...hair. The dimples that were now hidden by that beard.

 

His tiny, tiny waist.

 

Neymar flicked the cigarette away and breathed deep, full of regret.

 

How had he become a person full of regret? His whole thing was life, and happiness and taking the chance to...

 

He closed his eyes as a specific memory flashed in his mind - as if closing his eyes would sweep the image away. Leo leaning against the tiles of the shower stall that one time, almost hidden by the thickness of steam, eyes closed, body flushed. 

 

Leo liked his showers hot, really hot and really long. Long enough for Neymar to wonder what if. What if he walked in and put his arms around his waist? Kissed his damp shoulder? Pressed his face into his wet hair? Sucked the soft skin of his neck? What would happen? Would everything change, or would they stay the same?

 

He heard his phone buzz in the room and he went back in, leaning on his crutches, trying not to hurry. What was the rush anyway? Why did he hope that it might be Leo? Why would he call him now, when he hadn't called him in, god knows how long?

 

It was Casi - one of his PR team - urging him to make an instagram post supporting the team after their elimination. He'd sent a photo suggestion. Neymar cringed at how cheesy it was, but he did it anyway. All this was getting tiring, making him hate himself.

 

He remembered the early days in Spain. 

 

"Go out there and be involved," his dad had said, knowingly.

 

"Of course. You think I am going to fall asleep on the pitch?"

 

"Become part of the team. Be friends with everyone, especially Messi. You'll be compared to him, but more than anything else - you admire him. He's your idol. Remember to always say that."

 

Neymar remembered laughing. Of course he would always say Leo was his idol,  _because he was_. It annoyed him that his father had tainted it a bit by instructing him how to behave. Whenever Leo scored a goal, or assisted him, it was natural for Neymar to run to him, jump on him screaming in exuberance. But he could hardly forget the cameras. They were always there, and everyone around him always reminded him to be aware of them, do the right things, say the right things, celebrate in the right ways. He couldn't forget it if he tried. And he was never allowed to forget  _his brand._

He fell asleep, uncomfortably on his messed up bed, but he dreamed of lying on long green grass - not a football pitch - with the sun on his face. He had a feeling that someone was there with him, although he couldn't see him. He was just out of the frame, but he was there. And Neymar was smiling, maybe at something he was saying. Smiling, and then laughing. Laughing senselessly. The way you laugh, not because something funny has happened or has been said, but simply because you're happy.

 

When he woke up, he was so obviously alone that he burst into tears. He sat up quickly in bed - it was still dark, he can't have been sleeping for that long - and grabbed his phone. Scrolled through it quickly and called him. 

 

_Stupid stupid stupid._

"Ney?"

 

The voice was husky and obviously sleepy.

 

Funny how he had counted on Leo being fast asleep. Then he could send him a text about how he had called him not realising what the time was in Barcelona. Apparently he had it all planned out, and now Leo had ruined it by actually answering his phone in the middle of the night. Now he couldn't say a word because his throat was full of tears, and Leo would know. So he didn't say anything.

 

"Ney?" Leo said again, voice low.

 

And then: "Ney." A resigned whisper.

 

"Are you okay Ney?"

 

Neymar shook his head, tears angrily shaking out of him. He wasn't okay. He was in pain. Unbearable pain.

 

"I'm sorry..." Leo said.

 

What was  _he_  sorry for?

 

"I...miss you. You know?"

 

That made Neymar smile a little.

 

"Oh really?" he finally managed, and Leo laughed out.

 

"So now you can talk?"

 

"Why aren't you asleep?"

 

"I am."

 

"So who am I talking to?"

 

"Dream Leo," he giggled.

 

"Whose dream though?"

 

"Yours?"

 

A weird silence.

 

"Sounds about right."

 

Leo sighed.

 

"I have to go back to sleep okay?"

 

"Okay," he managed to whisper.

 

He hung up and then lay down, cradling his phone to himself. He wouldn't be sleeping. 

 

*

**Author's Note:**

> Are people still shipping neymessi? Holler if you are!


End file.
